Thanks To You
by Darkover
Summary: Giles gives a Thanksgiving dinner for the most important people in his life.


19

Title: "Thanks To You" (1/1)

Author: Darkover, a.k.a. TheQueenly1

Pairing: B/G, W/X

Rating: PG

Summary: Giles gives a Thanksgiving dinner for the most important people in his life.

Spoilers: Nothing specific, but this story is set a few months after the series conclusion. I assume everyone is largely familiar with everything up to that point.

Disclaimer: As far as I know, all the characters of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" belong to their creator, Joss Whedon. I do not own them; if I did, then the last two or three seasons of that otherwise excellent program would have been very different. No infringement of copyright is intended or should be inferred. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so please do not sue.

Notes: This was written in response to Gileswench's "Thanksgiving Challenge." It went like this: "...expatness is getting to any Scooby you choose, or all of them at once, and Giles decides that a real Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings is just the ticket to drive the blues away. He does his best to provide the taste of home to the guest or guests of his choice. Must include ALL of the following: a frantic search for some food item that is necessary to the feast such as: cranberries, candied yams, or pumpkin for a pie, someone being thankful for something Giles has done for him/her, a happy memory of Sunnydale. Must include at least ONE of the following: Giles sharing a glass of wine with someone, a broken piece of china, a marriage proposal, Giles singing." Brackets indicate unvoiced thoughts; asterisks indicate the passage of time.

Feedback: As always, would be greatly appreciated!

"Is something wrong, Buffy?" Giles asked, as the Watcher and his Slayer walked up the path that led back to his house. "You seem a little glum."

"It's just the weather," she answered unconvincingly, pulling her jacket a little closer around herself as they faced into the wind. "I'm not used to this cold, and having it rain every day."

Giles slipped an arm around her shoulders, and to his pleasure, Buffy leaned a bit closer into his supportive embrace, slipping her own arm around his waist. Both of them were learning to show their affection for each other in more tactile ways. "I'm afraid that isn't unusual for England, Buffy. One gets used to it." He paused a moment, and added quietly; "You don't regret coming here, do you?"

She seemed truly surprised by the question. "No, Giles, of course not! I've done my tour of Europe, and it was nice. Dawn is safe and happy living with Faith and Robin Woods in Cleveland, attending the school where Robin is the new principal, so I'm not worried about her. The only place I really feel at home any more is with you. If that means putting up with some yucky weather, well, so be it."

He was touched by her words, but still concerned. "Thank you, Buffy. I certainly don't feel whole unless I am with you." They had reached the door of the Tudor mansion Giles now resided in as the Head Councilor of the Reformed Council of Watchers, and he removed his arm from her shoulders in order to dig into the pocket of his windcheater for his key. "But I don't think the weather is the only thing that has you so down, is it?" He opened the massive door and politely ushered her inside first.

"Not exactly," she mumbled, as he helped her off with her jacket, hung both her garment and his own on the coat rack in the foyer, and firmly closed and bolted the front door behind them. "I'm kind of missing Mom. And my dad, although he hasn't had any contact with me for years. I mean, this is the time of year when families and friends get together..."

For a moment Giles was puzzled; he thought Buffy was referring to Christmas, and it was still November—and then he understood what she meant. In the United States, Thanksgiving would be celebrated in just a few days' time. Buffy's mother was dead, her father might as well have been for all the attention he ever showed his daughter, and her "sister" was a continent away. Buffy herself was living in England, a country every bit as foreign to her—a girl born and bred in California—as Mars.

He opened his mouth to say something comforting, or perhaps just to thank her for coming here, but she took his hand and clasped it gently, gazing up into his face as she spoke again. "Giles, I'm sorry for being Self-Pity Woman. I have a lot to be thankful for. I've got you—my Watcher—and things are better between us than they've ever been. You've made me feel at home here, and taken Willow and Xander in, too. I'm with my Watcher and my two best friends. How could I ask for anything more?"

"Buffy, I—" He fumbled desperately, trying to find the right words to tell her that she would always be welcome here, that he very much hoped she might make this her permanent home—when there was a crash from the kitchen, and an angry male voice saying: "Goddammit!"

They both hurried to the kitchen, passing Willow as she poked her head out of the study. She had been doing some work for the Council on the new computer that Giles had originally purchased so that he and his Slayer could exchange e-mail during Buffy's recent perambulations across Europe.

They all burst through the kitchen door to find Xander standing before the sink, a dishtowel in one hand, glaring with his good eye at the shards of a broken china plate that lay on the floor. "I broke it!" he yelled, as if that were not obvious. "It just slipped out of my hand, and—I can't do anything right, damn it!" He flung the dishtowel at the counter and turned back to face the sink, gripping the edge of it as if he wished he could break it. "I can't even wash dishes, now!"

Willow started forward, bending a little as if intending to pick up the pieces. "It's okay, Xander. We can glue the pieces back together. It's just a plate, right, Giles?"

The Watcher gestured to her and she stopped. "Willow, Buffy, would you excuse us for a moment?" he said quietly.

"Sure," Buffy said, and half-pulled a confused Willow out of the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind them. Giles stepped up to Xander, who had not moved from his position at the sink, gripping it hard, his back and shoulder muscles rigid. He placed a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder, and was not surprised when, after a few seconds longer of trying to contain his rage, fear, and pain, Xander began to weep, almost silently.

Giles said nothing, merely keeping his hand in place, giving the younger man's shoulder a comforting squeeze. Xander's own hand shot up to seize that of Giles, and he clutched at it as if it were a lifeline, gripping it almost painfully. After a few minutes he regained control of himself, and only then did the Watcher turn him gently so that they could face each other.

"God, Giles, why do you bother with me?" Xander said hoarsely. "I'm worthless. Buffy's the Slayer, and Willow can do research and other stuff for the Council, but I can't do anything. Not anymore. Why do you let me stay here?"

Giles smiled faintly. "Aside from the fact that you are a very dear friend, and that I value your company? It's not true that you are worthless, Xander. You just have not yet found your niche. Give yourself a little time."

"Time," the young man said in a strange voice. "You know what time of year this is back in the States, Giles? Time to give thanks. I'm really thankful you let me live here, G-man. Even if I don't act like it, sometimes."

"Stop saying that," the older man said firmly. "You will always be welcome here, Xander."

"Yeah. I guess I know that. I just wish there was something useful I could do." He bent over and slowly began picking up the pieces of the broken china dish. "I'll clean up the mess."

Giles hesitated, thought of helping, but realized that would probably make Xander feel worse, so he left the young man to the task and exited the kitchen. Buffy and Willow had gone on into the lounge, and both looked up as he entered. The young redhead asked, "Is Xander okay?"

The Watcher smiled as reassuringly as he could. "He will be. He is very frustrated just now. We must all try to be patient with him."

"Oh, I know! Poor Xander, I think he feels so alone sometimes. Just like—" she broke off, turning her head away, but not before Giles saw the tears that welled up in her eyes. He glanced at Buffy and quirked his eyebrows in a request for an explanation, but the look his Slayer returned to him was every bit as puzzled.

"I'm sorry," Willow said, crying a little. "I should be thinking of Xander, not myself. And you've been so nice to us, Giles..."

He handed her his handkerchief, then sat down on the sofa across from her, next to Buffy. "Feeling a little homesick, Willow?" the Watcher asked gently.

"Kind of," she said, wiping her eyes. "I've been missing my parents, but I guess they haven't been missing me. I—I thought I would be going home by now—I can do my work for the Council online, after all, so I can do that anywhere—but it looks like I can't. Go home, that is."

"Will," Buffy said suddenly, "Does this have anything to do with that letter you got yesterday?"

The young witch's smile was as close to bitter as any expression they had ever seen on her face. "It wasn't a letter, it was an announcement. My parents have bought a new home. That was it, just an announcement—no letter, nothing else. I e-mailed them as soon as I got it, telling them I would soon be home for Thanksgiving. Mom e-mailed me right back, telling me that she and Dad haven't yet finished refurbishing the house, so it would be 'more convenient' if I just stay where I am and don't join them for the holidays this year."

"Well, that's it, then," Buffy said. "I guess we're all just a bunch of ex-prats."

"I beg your pardon, Buffy?" Giles said, startled.

"Ex-prats," the blonde repeated. "You know, people who live outside their own countries, because they can't go home. Except for you, of course, Giles."

Willow emitted a halfhearted giggle, and Giles smiled. "I believe you mean that you are all expatriates, Buffy."

"Whatever," she said, waving her hand vaguely as she curled up into a corner of the sofa, looking more than a little despondent herself. "None of us can go home, because we don't have any homes to go to any more. My mom's dead. Xander's parents are dead, not that they were exactly Ward and June Cleaver before. Sunnydale's gone: and one way or another, so are most of the people we knew."

A subdued silence followed this remark. Giles stared at their unhappy faces for a moment, then rose and retraced his steps to the kitchen.

He pushed his way through the swinging door, seeing that Xander was still there, having replaced the remainder of the dishes without mishap. He said to the younger man, "I believe I may take you up on that offer to do something, Xander. Can you help me plan an American Thanksgiving celebration?"

Giles again scanned the list of edibles for a traditional American Thanksgiving feast that Xander had written out for him. As near as he could tell, he had everything, and would soon have it prepared, if he did not already. The turkey of course, with sage and onion stuffing. Potatoes to be boiled and mashed, although Giles decided not to attempt making gravy—there were some things that just were not meant to be. Mushy peas—all right, that was hardly a traditional American comestible, at Thanksgiving or at any other time, but he didn't see why it couldn't be added to the menu. Small hot breads, which Buffy and the others inexplicably persisted in calling "biscuits." Butter for the biscuits and the potatoes. Cranberry sauce—

Giles snatched up the list and glared at it, affronted. Cranberry sauce? I don't have that. I've never even heard of a sauce made of cranberries. Perhaps it is something that is served over the turkey.

At that moment, the tradesmen's door opened and Xander entered, carefully holding two white pasteboard boxes, which he set on the counter top. "Here ya go, G-man: two pumpkin pies, fresh-made today. Got 'em from the bakery in town."

"Good," Giles said briefly. "Now you can go and get the cranberries. We seem to have forgotten them."

Xander groaned theatrically. "Aw, come on, Giles. Where am I going to find cranberries at this time of the evening? This is the English countryside, not California. The fruit-and-veggie shops are closed by now."

"The supermarket in town is open until eight o'clock. Go."

"Go where?" Buffy said suddenly from behind them, having just entered the kitchen in time to hear her Watcher's words. She stared past him at the raw, plucked bird in the large roasting pan atop the stove. "Either that's the ugliest demon I've ever seen, Giles, or you're preparing a turkey."

He turned. "Ah...yes, Buffy. I had hoped it would be a surprise."

She grinned delightedly. "You're making Thanksgiving dinner?"

He smiled back. "Yes, and I'm managing to do it without a ricer, too."

She laughed and then moved forward to touch the bird gingerly. "You know, I don't think there's anything quite as naked-looking as a raw turkey. What's all this about cranberries?"

"It's exploitation, that's what," Xander mock-complained. "He's had me running errands all day, and now he sends me out again to find something else."

Giles glanced back at the younger man in affectionate exasperation. "You know, Xander, I believe you've been reading "The Independent" too much since coming here. You are the one who wrote out the traditional Thanksgiving menu and gave it to me, and on it you listed 'cranberry sauce.' So go out and get some."

"That's all you want?" Buffy said. "Don't worry, I'll go get it."

"I can't ask you to go out at this hour, Buffy," Giles protested.

"Watcher's pet," Xander muttered, earning himself another glare from the older man.

The Slayer laughed. "Giles, I used to be out on patrol a lot later than this—and I don't think I have to worry about vampires around here. The buses to town run until ten o'clock. I'll be fine. Do you need anything else while I'm out?"

Giles shook his head. "Do you know what kind to get?"

"Sure," she answered. "The traditional kind." Then she was gone. Giles turned back to Xander.

"Well, don't just stand there. Put away those pies, and start stuffing that bloody bird."

Giles gingerly poked with his fork at the reddish-purple substance on his plate. "This is cranberry sauce?"

"Yep," Buffy said.

"You said you were getting the traditional kind."

"I did."

"It was tinned!"

"The traditional kind comes from a can, Giles! At least it always did in my family."

"I don't even like cranberry sauce," said Xander, who was already spooning second helpings of both stuffing and turkey onto his plate.

Giles shot him a look. "No one else seems to, either. Why did you put it on the menu?"

"Because it's traditional," the younger man replied, unabashed.

"Never mind," Willow said. "Giles, it was so sweet of you to do this. And there's another tradition we've got to follow, one I guess Xander forgot to mention."

"There is?" Giles said, surprised and slightly abashed. He had not wanted to forget any part of the celebration, and it seemed now that he had.

"We really should have done it at the beginning of the meal," Willow said. "But I guess it's okay to do it at the end."

"I know what you mean, Will," Buffy agreed. "We should all say what we're thankful for, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Xander said, slowing down in his eating long enough to be included in the conversation. "I've heard of that. Everyone joins hands and mentions something they're thankful for, right?"

"That's right," Willow said. "You didn't do that in your family, Xander?"

"Hey, in my family, I was grateful enough if my dad and my uncles weren't all roaring drunk by dinner time. We weren't exactly the Waltons, Will."

"Let's do it now," Buffy interposed quickly, setting down her utensils to extend her hands to Xander and Willow on either side of her; they, in turn, joined hands with Giles. "I'll go first." She looked directly at the Englishman at the other end of the table. "Giles, I'm thankful for you. You've been both my Watcher and my friend, and better to me than I've really deserved. You're the primary reason why, even though I've been the Slayer since I was fifteen, I'm still alive at the age of twenty-three. I'm so very thankful that you are a constant presence in my life, especially now that Faith and I have resumed being the only Chosen ones, when the spell that empowered the Potentials turned out to be only temporary. But Giles, I'm not just glad you're my Watcher because you've kept me alive, although obviously that is a biggie," she added with a grin; the others laughed. "I'm glad we're still together because my life would have been—would be—a lot poorer if you weren't in it. Have I embarrassed you, Watcher-mine?"

Giles cleared his throat. "A bit, but I believe I shall survive, Buffy."

"I'll go next," Willow offered. She, too, looked at the man at the head of the table. "Giles, I've never told you this before, but I'm thankful you take me seriously. Even back when everyone else thought I was just a stupid little nerd, you never treated me like that. You always listened to me and treated me like a person. Even when I..." she hesitated for a moment, "even when I go interested in magick and...started to go too far, well, you discouraged me, but you did it in such a way that it was as if what I did mattered, not as if it didn't matter. I guess what I'm trying to say, Giles, is that you've always treated me as if I matter, not as if I was nerdy, pathetic, unimportant little Willow."

"Willow, there is nothing at all pathetic about you," Giles told her gently. "The reason I've always advised you to tread carefully where magick is concerned is because I do understand the temptations, and because I have always respected you and your power. You are a very dear friend, Willow, and..." he cleared his throat again, "I love you."

Buffy squeezed the redhead's hand. "We all do."

"You guys are a tough act to follow," Xander complained. "But what I've got to say is kind of more of the same. Giles, Buffy isn't the only one who wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. You've been more of a father to me than my real dad ever was, and I want to thank you for that. I know you came to Sunnydale for Buffy, but you've always been there for me, too—and if you hadn't shown up when you did, I think I would have dropped out of school and just hit the road. I was thinking about running away when I met you and Buffy. There were plenty of times in the years that followed that I thought about packing it all in, just leaving town—it's not as if my mom and dad would ever have missed me—but then I'd think, 'No, G-man wouldn't do something like that. He sticks around, he takes care of business, he's there for everyone, no matter what. A real man is responsible.' I guess that's what I'm most thankful for, Giles. I'm thankful you taught me what it means to be a real man."

The Watcher was momentarily speechless. He had known his young friends loved him, but he had never guessed at the depth of their affection. "Thank you, Xander."

"That, and I'm thankful that we've got two pumpkin pies, since I can eat one all by myself," the younger man added irrepressibly, and they all laughed.

"Quite," the Watcher said, smiling. "Shall we take our dessert in the lounge?"

A few minutes later they were all settled in the living room. Xander and Willow were having pie and coffee, while Buffy and Giles declined dessert but each had a glass of wine instead.

"This reminds me of the old days," Willow said. "In the library. Except we're having pie instead of doughnuts."

"At least you don't have to worry about me eating all the jellies," Buffy joked as she lifted her glass to Giles, who smiled back at her.

"And we don't have to worry about some big brooding evil," Xander added.

"I miss the library, though," Willow said. "That was our special place."

"Me, too," Buffy said, surprising Giles, who had always assumed that Buffy had merely endured the time she spent training and researching there as a matter of necessity. "Sunnydale wasn't a very happy place, but I think that's where I was always happiest—in the library, with you guys." She sipped her wine and gazed thoughtfully at her Watcher. "You know, Giles, you didn't say what you had to be thankful about."

"That's right, Giles!" Willow exclaimed. "Tell us. What are you thankful for?"

Giles cleared his throat again, and smiled. "Aside from the fact that I have the honor of having three wonderful young people for my friends, I suppose my gratitude is greatest for the good news I have to impart. Xander, you may recall those designs I had you draw for me a few weeks ago? Well, I showed them to the department head at the university in town, and he has agreed to admit you to their architectural studies program as a degree-seeking student."

Buffy's face lit up, Willow squealed with delight and enveloped a stunned Xander in an enormous hug, while that young man suddenly looked delighted and terrified all at once. "Me? A college student? Studying architecture?"

"Why not? You already have more hands-on experience with how buildings are constructed than any other student who may be entering the program. And you drew up designs to my specifications with surprising ease. Imagine what you can accomplish with the proper education."

Xander still looked uneasy. "I dunno, Giles. I mean, I've never been the student type. My dad said he never put money aside for college for me because I was so stupid there was no sense wasting the money, and he might have been right. My grades when I was in school were never all that great. I was good at construction because anyone can do that, but college..."

"Xander, that's enough," the Watcher interrupted firmly. "That is your father talking." And I'm bloody well glad the bastard's dead. "You were good at construction because you are good at anything you put your mind to. You have considerable talents; you just have to learn to develop them."

"Then there's the matter of money," the young man mumbled. "Like the fact that I don't have any."

"As the Head Councilor of the Reformed Council of Watchers, I have at my disposal all the finances of the Council, which I assure you are considerable. The fees will be taken care of, and you are welcome to continue living here for as long as it takes to earn your degree. You can do this, Xander."

"And I'll help you," Willow said eagerly.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Giles said, his gaze locked with Xander's. Something passed between them, and then the young American stood up to shake the Englishman's hand.

"Thanks, Giles," he said quietly.

"You are more than welcome." The Watcher glanced around at the others. "In fact, I hope you will all continue to regard this as your home." He reddened a little as they all stared up at him. "I—I have very much enjoyed having you all here. I have come, over the years, to regard all of you as my family. This mansion is certainly large enough to accommodate all of us in comfort. If you, Buffy, Willow, and Xander, would like to make this house your permanent residence, it would please me very much."

"Giles," Willow said, "I think that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard. And you're right. This is our family. I would love to live here. Thank you."

"Ditto," Xander said. "You're one hell of a generous guy, G-man."

The person dearest to Giles' heart, his Slayer, still had not spoken; she sat on the sofa, regarding him with an indecipherable expression. Heart pounding, Giles looked at her. "Buffy?" he said softly.

She put down her wineglass and said, "That depends."

"On what?" he managed.

"On why you want me to stay here. In what capacity." Abruptly, she stood up, lifted her hands to Giles' face to draw his head down to hers, and kissed him thoroughly but tenderly on the mouth. It was not the sort of kiss exchanged by friends, nor was it the sort of kiss bestowed by a daughter upon her father. It was the sort of kiss that could be interpreted only one way. For an instant, Giles was so stunned that he did not react, but then his body responded with all the desire and passion for his Slayer that he had held in check ever since the Prom, when he had first seen her for the desirable young woman she was. His arms went around her, his mouth eagerly devouring hers. When their lips finally parted, he was gasping, his heart was pounding, his mouth tingling, and he had become so hard so quickly that he was sure Buffy must be able to feel the erection even through their clothing.

"Geez, Buffy, how much of that wine have you had?" Xander asked.

"Shut up, Xander," the Slayer said, looking directly into her Watcher's eyes. "Rupert Giles, will you marry me?"

He wanted to shout: "YES!" but his deep-seated sense of honor and decency made him ask; "Buffy, are you sure about this?"

She smiled up at him, but to his amazement, he saw that she looked nervous. "Maybe I should kiss you again, Giles. Yes, I'm sure."

"It's just...I'm old enough to be your father, and you have considered me to be 'old and gross'...Buffy, you could do so much better."

She regarded him seriously. "No, I couldn't, Giles. It took me an incredibly long time to figure things out, but you are the finest man I've ever known. I've always thought that, even when I was so ga-ga over Angel and the other boy-men I've dated. You are the smartest, the kindest, the most decent man I've ever known. You always put me first, and even now, you're trying to talk me out of this because you're concerned about how it will affect me. At least," she added, trying for humor but with the anxiety clearly seeping through, "I hope that's why. Do you—don't you feel the same way? About me?"

"Yes, Buffy, but please understand, this isn't something you have to do—you are still welcome to live here..."

He stopped because Buffy was kissing him again. When they drew apart once more, Xander rose and lifted his coffee cup. "I want to make a toast. To Buffy and Giles: may they have a wonderful marriage and a long life together."

"Giles still hasn't said yes, Xand," the Slayer said, smiling up at her Watcher in a way that was affectionate but still tinged with anxiety.

"It must be because my mouth was otherwise occupied," he answered. "Buffy, marriage to you would make me the happiest man in the world."

"I wonder," Willow ventured, "could we make it a double wedding?"

They all turned to stare at her. Willow stood up and regarded her best male friend seriously. "Xander, will you marry me?"

He looked nearly as amazed as Giles had been. "Will—I thought you were, uh..."

"Gay?" she finished. "Not really. I only ever felt that way about Tara. Otherwise, I'm attracted to guys. Specifically to you, Xander. You're my first love, after all. I loved you when we were kids, and now that we're both adults, I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you."

Xander actually blushed. "I love you too. You've always been my Willow, even when we both loved other people. I wouldn't have said anything, not when I didn't have anything to offer. But thanks to Giles, it looks as if that's gonna change." He slipped his arm around Willow's waist and then turned to face the Slayer and her Watcher. "This is the best Thanksgiving of my life. Thank you, Giles."

"I'd say we all have a lot to be thankful for," Buffy said, embracing Giles once more. "Why don't we have our dessert upstairs in bed, Watcher-mine?"

"I thought you didn't want any pie, Buffy—" he broke off at her expression, his own face lighting up. "Oh, yes. Quite."

Amid delighted laughter, both couples headed for the stairs and their respective bedrooms, the better to make more Thanksgiving memories that would last a lifetime.


End file.
